I Know, I Know
by Jaded
Summary: Post-"Boy with the Answer." After the Gravedigger trial, Brennan is still considering whether to stay or go.


I Know, I Know

_"Now I know I've got a heart, 'cause it's breaking."_  
**--The Tin Man, The Wizard of Oz**

She reminds herself over and over again: her first real love is ancient remains. Some things are just fact. This is a fact. It's something she can hold in her hand, even if it is metaphorical. This is something she believes. As the cab pulls away and she turns in her seat, she watches Booth fade away, and even though she can't see his face, she knows his expressions by heart. His smiles, his sadness, they've carved themselves into her memory. She would feel his pull halfway across town; on the other edge of the world—she cannot help herself and this terrifies her. Then, she can only think to tug on the hem of her coat because that is real and solid, and she feels exhausted, sunken to dizzying new lows, lifted to frightening highs.

It barely registers when the cab pulls up in front of her building. She pays the driver and follows the path inside. When Brennan returns to her apartment she walks into the dark, stays in the dark. Her heels come off near the couch. Her keys find a resting spot on a bookcase.

Outside, tires slap against pavement. The white noise of the city keeps the quiet from being too loud, too overwhelming. Brennan undresses for bed. She tosses back a sleeping pill, a glass of water. She wants to sink into sleep. Tonight, she'll numb away any nightmares of the Gravedigger. She can't bear to see Hodgins's bleeding face in her dreams anymore. And Booth. Drowning. She crawls into bed. Her whole body grows cold. She pulls a pillow over her head because she can still imagine him screaming. Screaming for help, for her, as he drowns and drowns, as he asks her, _why did you let me go under?_

If it's not that dream, then it's the other one. They stand on the marble white steps and he has his hands around her waist. Then, her face is in his hands, his fingers in her hair, his thumbs rolling gentle circles against her temples, the soft pressure against the bones of her skull. This time when she tells him _no_ he doesn't deflate. He doesn't give up. Instead, Booth he tells her loves her, that he'll never leave her, and if she leaves him he won't let her go alone because no matter what, no matter where, he is always with her. And she lets herself kiss him and his warmth is the proof she's never had, and she says, _That's all I had to hear you say_.

In either case fear that wells up inside of her. She wishes these dreams away. Her hands flutter underneath the covers.

With her eyelids closed she only sees a film of black. No water. No stars. No blood. No bone. But deep breaths meant to calm her come out shaky. She folds her hands over her chest as though it can keep her heart from spilling out. This is how she remains when sleep finally comes. 

#

She keeps busy. At the Jeffersonian the next day she requests a skeleton from Limbo, and Mr. Vincent Nigel-Murray scurries off to accommodate her request. The remains on the platform are sixteen century and a weight lifts in her chest as she leans down to peer down at the cracks radiating from a fracture in the left ulna.

"Bones."

It takes effort for her not to look at him when he calls her name. _My name is not Bones. It is Dr. Temperance Brennan._

"I am in the middle of something, Booth. Can you please wait?"

"Just wanted to see if you wanted to take a break and get some lunch, Bones."

"I can't. I have to finish this, and I have plans with Angela. We're going to lunch." The lie comes out easily. She was never good at lying before. _More change_, she thinks, change with which she is uneasy.

Brennan can see Angela out of the corner of her eye, and her best friend lowers her clipboard and raises and eyebrow.

"Yes," Angela says, slowly. "Sorry to take her away, Booth, but Brennan and I need some time for girl talk." She lifts her hand and waves the hand with Hodgins's ring to make her point. "Lots to catch up on and all."

"Right, of course, Ange."

Brennan finally lifts her head and looks to her partner. "Is that all you came for, Booth?" It's so matter-of-fact, so clipped, like she's addressing him for the first time, like that first year they worked together, that he startles.

"Yes," he says, an echo of himself. "That's all I came for." 

#

Angela grabs her arm, hard, twice. Once after Booth leaves. A second time when Angela drags her into the restaurant. They don't even sit down before Angela launches into her. The bustle of the noon-time crowd doesn't lessen the degree of Angela's annoyance, even though she is usually sensitive to such social mores.

"That hurts, Angela."

"I don't care. What is going on with you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, yes you do. Bren. You lied to Booth. You never lie. You never lie _to Booth_."

"I had intended to ask you to join me for lunch so that we could discuss your new marital state. I just didn't get to it until then. I didn't want to change my plan of action. That's all."

"I'm available for more than just lunch. We could have done this later. Why now? Brennan, what is going on?"

"Can we at least sit down first?"

Even ordering coffee feels tense, and Brennan wishes she were back at the lab. Her best friend is pursing her lips, waiting for an explanation, waiting for her to say something, but there are no words for this because this is not an issue. Brennan doesn't know why Angela seems so upset.

"Something's change, hasn't it?" Angela asks. Straight to the point. Straight to the heart, as Booth might say.

"I don't know what that means."

"Stop it, Brennan. What's going on? I know I've been caught up with my own stuff lately, what with Wendell and then Hodgins, but things with me? They've sorted themselves out, and I'm sorry I haven't been there for you like I should have been. That's not what best friends do, but I'm back now, and I want to know from you, what is wrong."

"I've been preoccupied by the Gravedigger case. That's all, Angela, and that's over now." She hesitates because she knows Angela won't accept this as the only explanation, however rational it might be.

"Something's been different for a while now. Before that."

Though she is not a scientist or an FBI agent, Angela constantly dazzles her with her ability to parse something out, to notice details that elude others. But it is something Brennan cannot hide from. She cannot run away from it.

"I don't know if I want to be involved with murder investigations anymore."  
Angela is surprised. "You don't want to work with Booth anymore?" _Straight to the heart. Straight through the heart._

"I feel . . . I think lately that I am losing my way, Ange. I deal with death everyday, but before Booth came along, the skeletons I examined didn't belong to people who had been murdered so brutally. The cases I worked on were strictly anthropological. They didn't involve myself directly. They didn't personally involve the people I . . . work with. I've been thinking maybe I need to go back to who I was before. I'm not sure like how I've changed."

"Change isn't a bad thing, Bren."

"I'm not who I used to be. I need to get back to that."

"No you don't. Brennan, change is a part of life. It's evolution. You can understand the importance of evolution, as a scientist, can't you? Creatures—people, they adapt to the world around them. Evolution equips us to survive better, to go to that next level. If we don't evolve we flounder and die. It makes us better."

"Not all creatures experience great leaps of evolution. In fact, some of the animals and insects that barely evolve seem to be the most resilient. For instance, sharks and cockroaches. They are essentially prehistoric creatures and they will probably outlive humanity's time here on Earth."

"Please don't tell me you are comparing yourself to a roach."

"Of course not. I have a much greater capacity for intelligence. What I'm saying is that some creatures, some people, are perfectly equipped as they are. Drastic changes are not necessary except to correct specific flaws, and those are adjustments, not wholesale change."

Their food comes but it remains largely untouched. Angela fiddles with a cucumber on her salad. Brennan grips her cup of coffee with both hands.

"So tell me about your wedding," Brennan finally offers, trying hard to sound bright.

Angela leans over the table and stares her in the eyes. "You still haven't told me what happened. I know something happened. And I know it has something to do with Booth."

"You can't presume that, Angela."

"Yes I can, and I know now for sure that's what's going on, because you would try to avoid my question so much if it wasn't."

"Well, like I said, I am thinking about taking a break from criminal investigations. It's been emotionally cumbersome, lately, and," she hesitates, "everything feels too close." She holds her hands against her chest once more. "Sometimes I feel like I'm going to burst. I don't want to feel that way. I don't want to have to feel those things. I want to think. I want to rationalize. I want things to make sense."

"And they don't right now?"

"No."

A beat.

Angela's hands fold over her own, her best friend's fingers curl around her wrist in reassurance.

"What if there's another case and Booth . . . and he's hurt. He dies. And I can't save him? I can't do it, Angela. Not anymore."

There are deep fathoms to her own heart that she's yet to understand. The dark arenas where she squirrels away her fears, her most desperate desires. Sometimes they are the same thing. And she cannot help it sometimes that these feelings bubble up, bright globes full of hope, full of grief, full of terror, bubbles that rise up and explode through the surface.

"And what if that happens and you're not there working with him to even begin to help?"

"Don't say that."

"What if you're gone and he's working alone or with another partner and something happens to him? You can't stop things from happening by just not being there. Brennan, you just can't. And even if you're gone, Booth will still be here. He do the things Booth does. You can't stop him from being who he is."

_Being Boothy_, Brennan thinks.

"Can you tell me, can you convince yourself that if you aren't doing this anymore, that if you rush off again to Guatemala or China or Micronesia, you won't care, you won't hurt, you won't feel it vibrate across the fabric of time that somewhere in the world Booth is hurting, too?"

"What if I'm the one who hurts him?"

Angela gapes at her. Her hands slide away from Brennan's, like knots giving away, rope unraveling.

"He wants to be with me," she whispers, unable to make eye contact. "And I can't do it. I can't hurt him like that, Angela. I just can't." 

#

Angela and Hodgins hold a small wedding reception at Hodgins's mansion. It's mostly people from the Jeffersonian and the FBI. This is the world they all live in.

The house is huge. The grounds are expansive, full of hundreds of varieties of plant life. Inside, the expanse of the building surprises them all who have never been there. The rooms and foyer are packed with art and rich old wooden furniture. Nothing of it rings of Hodgins, that is, until they get to where the reception is to be held.

"So this is what a multi-millionaire scientist's man cave looks like," Booth muses, pointing to the sparse decorations and the piles of books shoved into corners and the boxes of samples tucked behind a sofa. Sweets giggles and repeats the joke to Daisy.

"Angie's moved in," Hodgins says, "but her stuff hasn't."

"Oh yeah, don't you believe I'm going to let _this_ stand. My feng shui is like _woooooo._"

"Mi casa is su casa, baby," he says, kissing her forehead.

"You know it," she replies.

The pictures on the walls show a young Jack Hodgins and his family. And then there are pictures of the other people in his life—his other family. Snapshots of his friends at the lab at functions. Candids from evenings out. There are still pictures of Zack. One of him wearing his costume from Halloween—his half of the cow. He's never been forgotten. Never will be. Thoughts of him still tug at Brennan's. heart. It still tugs at all of them, like they share one collective heart muscle, feel each pulse, each pump of blood that pushes through and fills again with oxygen.

By mid-evening everyone is tipsy or drunk and shoes are kicked off and people are dancing barefoot in middle of the room. Brennan leans against the glass sliding door that leads to one of Hodgins's many patios and pulls her foot out of her shoe to give it a rub.

She sees Booth coming toward her from the other side of the room. She's been trying to avoid being too close to him all night, and as he nears she can see the hurt in his face. He nears and tries to smile at her.

"You look beautiful tonight, Bones."

"You, too," she says, swallowing, nervous. "I mean, you look handsome." And he does, in his dark blue suit, his crisp white shirt, and the cuff links that belonged to Pops. His nearness sets off a physical reaction that courses through her entire body. Blood vessels constrict, pupils dilate. She feels breathless. Brennan flushes, takes a long sip of her glass of red wine.

"Those two are happy, aren't they?" he says to her, his eyes on Angela and Hodgins. "You know, Wendell is a good guy, but some people are just right for one another, you know? I mean, I'm sure Angela would have been happy with Wendall if that had stuck, but I see those two and I don't think they would have been happy like that, like they are with one another. Angela and Hodgins. Forever." He shakes his head, suddenly a little too self-aware. "Anyway."

"It's warm in here. Want to get some air?"

"Sure."

Brennan drains the rest of her drink and walks outside in her stockings. Booth follows.

It's been unseasonably cool in Washington the last few days, but the air feels soothing against her warm skin. The wine's brought a flush to her face, and she feels good, relaxed for the first time in a long time.

"How's Catherine?" she blurts out when they're out of earshot of the party. "I see she did not accompany you to the party."

"I could ask you the same for Hacker."

"This was a more private affair. Invitation only. Family and friends." Brennan shrugs. "I thought it would not be appropriate to bring someone who was not familiar with Angela and Hodgins."

"Then that's my answer, too."

"You think Jared and Padme will have a party like this after their nuptials? This is nice." There are roses near a bench that intrigue her. She walks over there, away from Booth. He follows her, again.

"Maybe not so low key," he says evenly. "I think Padme wants to go all out."

"Have they set a date? I might not be able to make it, that is, if I'm invited. I don't want to presume."

"Bones. I thought we agreed that you would sleep on this idea of . . ."

"I'm still thinking, Booth. Nothing definite yet."

"We're partners," he says, as though it is something solid. A fact. It is reassurance for himself, but there are other words lingering below that phrase that he won't say, that she refuses to hear. "Our professional relationship is still important to you. Isn't it?" He bites his lip, waiting for her to answer.

"It is," she breathes.

"And you're not going to leave?"

She doesn't answer him. Instead, she lets the excuse of alcohol in her veins allow her to step into his space, and she places the flat of her palms onto his chest. She can feel him swallow. She can hear him breathe, like his breath and hers are one and the same. Leaning into him like it's the last time—and maybe it is—she says, "When I was in foster care I never imagined that this could be my life."

His arms curl around her waist, his fingers touch the contours of her back, and it's not possessive or desperate. What it is is knowing and familiar, like the home you never knew was yours until you were there, and anything else would never compare.

"What do you mean?" he says into her hair. "You've always been smart. You knew you'd get out of that. You had to have know you'd do great things with your life, that you'd be rich and successful."

"Yes," she says simply. "I did know that. But I didn't think I'd have _this_ life. With friends. With people around me who cared, who knew how to love and be loving, and that I was one of those people for them."

"Oh, Bones."

"Please don't, Booth," she murmurs, burying her head into his shoulder.

There is a long silence. They are stuck together like they are dancing, but they only sway, held together my physics and gravity. Anyone inside looking out might have thought _these are two people in love_, and the only two people who would have disputed that were the ones being watched.

"It's something, isn't it?" he says. "Hodgins and Angela. Second chances. Some people can't even do it once . . ." he trails off, and coughs, as though he knows he's said too much, that it's the entirely wrong thing to say. He back peddles. "What I mean is, to risk it once is something, but to do it twice?" Booth shakes his head. "But it worked out, didn't it? It was worth it."

"Yes." She's pleasantly buzzing, and it feels so good to be in his arms. She could fall asleep right here and there would be no nightmares. This she knows. This she feels. "I'm sad the night has to end," she says.

"I know, I know."

"But good things always come to an end," she says, as though she is practicing the phrase, trying it out in her mouth for the first time.

"Not all good things," he says, and she closes her eyes, thinking, _this time I think your gut is wrong, Booth._ But she draws him closer, memorizing his muscles, the feel of being held by him, of two objects trying to occupy the same space, and she wonders why she has to be right about so many things. 

#

It's not that dream, but the other.

They stand on the marble white steps and he has his hands around her waist. His hands on her face, his fingers in her hair. This time when she tells him _no_ he doesn't deflate. He doesn't give up. Instead, Booth he tells her loves her, that he'll never leave her, and if she leaves him he won't let her go alone because no matter what, no matter where, he is always with her. And she lets herself kiss him and his warmth is the proof she's never had, but this time she says, _I can't. Because now I know. I know._

[the end]


End file.
